


Hatsukoi

by Mina Lightstar (ukefied)



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: F/M, Foregone conclusion guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-18
Updated: 2008-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukefied/pseuds/Mina%20Lightstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Locke Cole meets the love of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hatsukoi

**Author's Note:**

> Hatsukoi: "first love." No spoilers, but probably has more of an effect if you know who Rachel is. XD;
> 
> Also, I seem to have an unhealthy obsession with that Green Beret in the Patriarch's house. It's in like _every_ fic I write.

The first time he sees her, she is at the item shop. He's sitting in the corner, waiting for the antidote he just purchased to kick in, trying to distract himself from the stinging. It's a small shop, so he doesn't think he's staring; there's nowhere else to look but at this young woman. She has this amazing long black hair and these bright eyes and her skirts whish about her legs when she walks.

"Two potions, please," she asks of the merchant. Her voice is warm and pleasant. Locke wants to hear it again.

"How's your darling mother?" the shop owner returns.

"Doing much better, thank you. The virus has finally loosed her." With a bow of her head, she hands over the gil and takes her leave. She passes Locke in a flurry of skirts and floral perfume.

The shopkeep says in a wry tone, "Close your mouth, boy, before you catch flies."

Locke looks up and blinks. "Who was that?"

A perplexed frown is his answer, but then the shopkeeper chuckles. "Ah, Locke, you've been away too long. That was Rachel."

" _Rachel?_ "

"That's what I said."

Locke stands up and leaves the shop. He suddenly feels just fine.

***

Locke has traveled to many places, but has always considered Kohlingen his home. He spent the most time here, and knows a number of the locals -- some for years. He knew a Rachel from Kohlingen, once. She was awkwardly tall for her age and wore her hair in pigtails and her father always wanted her home before sundown. Locke had known her, but obviously not well enough to recognize this transformation.

He catches up to her just as she's turning onto her family's property. "Rachel!"

She pauses, politely turns around and gives him a little incline of her head. "Yes?"

Locke is unexpectedly self-conscious about his appearance. He's dirty and his hair needs washing and his clothes have seen better days; he doesn't deserve to be seen _near_ this woman. "Oh, well -- do you remember me? I'm Locke, used to run in and out of here with 'silly trinkets,' as they used to say."

It takes a few moments, but recognition flows across Rachel's face. "Yes, of course I do!" She smiles; it lights up everything around her. Taking a step forward, she winks at him. "What _did_ you ever do with that green hat?"

He winks back. "Secret. But maybe I'll tell you..." He feigns considering it.

She plays along beautifully, pouting a little and cocking her head. Locke decides he really likes this grown-up Rachel. "How can I convince you?"

"Well, if you really wanna' know..." Locke bows at the waist, "you can come for a walk with me after dinner?"

She laughs, and the sound is musical. "All right, Locke. I'll meet you here."

They say goodbye, and after she goes inside, Locke thinks he might be staying around Kohlingen for a while.

***

It's quiet in Kohlingen tonight, save for the animated chatter of two reunited friends.

"You stole his _clothes_?" Rachel exclaims in disbelief, stifling her laughter.

"Oh, I did," Locke assures her, laughing at his own memory of the situation. The chocobo thief's expression had been _priceless_. "I didn't keep them, though, as I discovered he, ah, didn't wear any undergarments."

Her smothered chuckles become full-out laughter. "Th-that's dis _gusting_!"

He could listen to her laugh all day. "Needless to say, I try to avoid Zozo most of the time. Bad sorts around there, and a lot of them don't like me."

"That's amazing," she says, and the praise is heartfelt. "I can't believe you're fast enough to steal the clothes of a person's back. Are you sure you aren't a thief?"

"Yes," Locke only half-snaps, because he can't seem to be annoyed with her. "I only use my skills for _good_. And," he laments, rubbing the back of his head, "I guess sometimes for fun."

"Sometimes just because you _can_ ," she teases, poking him in the shoulder. "I remember pies vanishing from windows."

"I was _ten_."

"Could you steal my clothes?" she asks out of the blue, giving him a coy look.

And if he hadn't noticed her soft curves and creamy skin _before_.... "... Um," he hesitates, "probably, if I caught you off-guard."

"Hm," she says, smiling again. "I'd like to see it sometime. But," she adds, "when we're alone. It might be awkward otherwise."

Whether she means something by that, Locke isn't sure. Rachel doesn't seem like the type to make that kind of innuendo -- then again, Rachel doesn't seem like the type who would hang around with a traveler like him.

He walks her home and kisses her hand before leaving her at the door. She thanks him for the lovely evening and suggests they do it again sometime. He replies that he would call on her.

He watches her until she disappears inside, feeling content. He's going to bring her flowers tomorrow -- after he cuts his hair.

***

Locke isn't really one to keep in touch. He comes and goes, and the few people in the world who might need to contact him know how to go about it -- where to send pigeons, and whatnot. Locke does not send letters, as he does not like writing.

Therefore, he can just _imagine_ the expression on young King Edgar's face when his friend receives a crumpled parchment, upon which a single sentence is written in a squarish hand.

 _"I've met a girl."_

***

Locke stays in Kohlingen for two whole months. He only realizes so much time has passed when he goes to pay the innkeeper for another night and discovers he's nearly short on gil. A mental calculation of where it has all gone comes to... Rachel. Staying at the inn, spending all his time with her -- it's affected his state of financial security. No woman has ever had such an effect on him before.

The true testament to Rachel's charm is that Locke immediately brainstorms for a means to _stay_ in Kohlingen.

"Thanks," he says to the innkeeper, sliding more gil across the counter. He turns away, guessing he'll probably have to go spelunking for treasure in order to keep bread on the table, as it were. Most of him is still excited at the prospect, but part of him feels bad that he'll be separated from Rachel.

"Locke!" her singsong voice calls as soon as he exits the inn. He looks up and smiles as she makes her way over. Her hands are cold from the morning's chill and he envelopes them in his own. "How are you this morning?"

"Better now," he admits, and mentally kicks himself for sounding like Edgar.

She laughs that musical giggle of hers, the one he'll never get tired of hearing. "And what are you up to today?"

He blinks at her, and then replies, "Actually, I'm going treasure-hunting."

She blinks back; her big eyes make her look owlish. "Really? You're heading out to actually search for hidden treasure?"

"Really," he confirms. "Come to think of it, there's a cave not _too_ far from here that used to be a hideout for bandits. I hear they've cleared out, and I want to go see if there's anything left."

Slowly, almost uncertainly, she smiles. "Are you serious? How did you find that out?"

He pulls back a little, feigning disgust. "Rachel, I never reveal my sources. That's how other treasure hunters beat you to the quarry."

Rachel gives him a sly look, then asks, "Can I come along?"

It's totally unexpected. Sure, Rachel thought his profession of choice was fascinating -- but half the people who know what he does feel that way (the other half calls him a thief.) To think of fair, gentle Rachel trudging through the wilderness in search of treasure... it was uncanny.

... It was _sexy._

"You really want to?" She nods. "Well, won't your father be upset?" Locke has met the man a few times, and suffice to say her father did not approve.

"It's just a long walk, really," she assures him, and presses a finger to his lips. "No worries."

However she does it, Locke doesn't ask, but Rachel meets him not ten minutes later at the entrance to the town.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks again, because there are monsters out there and it's naïve to think he won't have to fight. "It could be dangerous."

She shrugs. "I know how to use a dirk. Besides, you'll be there."

Locke is many things, but not a liar. "Yeah, but I'm a treasure hunter, not a knight."

Rachel is sure of herself, and of him. "You'll protect me."

What else can he say? "Of course, I promise."

***

What they end up finding is a Gold Helm. It's not worth much, but hiking across the plains with Rachel made it more than worthwhile. Rachel wears the helmet all the way home. She looks ridiculous, a parody trapped between two social classes, but Locke wishes they'd found two so he could wear one, as well.

That evening, Rachel regales her parents with the tale of her adventure. Locke sort of wishes she'd left out the part about the Red Fang attacking them, but the damage was done. Her father still does not approve, but Rachel evidently doesn't care.

***

The following night is _the_ night. Rachel comes with Locke back to his room at the inn, and it is the most surreal evening of his life. She is the softest, most beautiful treasure he has ever had the honor to hold. She feels good, she tastes good, and to feel her around him with her sweat and her scent -- he could drop dead right and would consider his life well spent.

Later, they doze. He's lying on his stomach and she on her side, tracing the red streaks that decorate his back.

She stays with him until the morning.

He's thinking of staying forever.

***

Around lunchtime the next day, he gets a letter from Edgar. The King doesn't mince words, doesn't waste time with small talk through the written word. He writes:

 _"Do you think she's the one?"_

Genuinely happy for him, but teasing, as well. It's very Edgar.

Locke's reply is simple and honest:

 _"I love her."_

 

~fin


End file.
